


Five plus 1: Five times John said Yes to Sherlock, and one time he said No.

by bigblueboxat221b



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Devious Sherlock, Fluff, M/M, angst-free zone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 02:49:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8827525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/bigblueboxat221b
Summary: Just like the packet says. Short and sweet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea that’s been kicking around for a while, though when I sat down today it practically wrote itself! I like the idea of 5+1 stories that are linked, where the 5 ‘times’ build up in a crescendo to the 1 ‘time’ – a good story arc, in other words. This is pretty bare of angst or character reflection, too – trying to keep it short is a challenge in itself!
> 
> I also liked the idea of John saying yes to Sherlock – he so often says no (because let’s face it, Sherlock is a little crazy), what if he wanted to say yes instead?

**Time the First - 10 February**

“We need to make Anderson believe we are intimately involved, John.”

Sherlock’s voice cut into John’s concentration, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he processed what Sherlock had just said. “I beg your pardon?” he asked anyway, knowing he had heard correctly.

“You heard me,” Sherlock said impatiently. “It’s April Fools Day in 51 days, getting in an early start will ensure our plan is above suspicion.”

“Our plan?” John repeated. He had no idea what Sherlock was talking about – in fact he was still stuck on the ‘intimately involved’ part of the conversation.

Sherlock made a noise of impatience, but John gave him the ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, so explain for the normal people’ face. “Lestrade has a secret bet with Donovan that he can fool Anderson more effectively than she can on April Fools Day. We can guarantee Lestrade’s victory by starting early.”

John still didn’t understand why it had to be he and Sherlock pretending to be a couple, though.

Sherlock observed his confusion and added, “Donovan would never suspect that Lestrade would ask this of us, even to best Anderson, so I offered. It seemed more efficient to arrange it with him before I told you.”

John was beginning to understand what Sherlock was talking about. It seemed a dangerous plan, given that he was not exactly sure how he felt about Sherlock, and this might lead them down a path whose trajectory they could not control. On the other hand, some resolution might help to clear his head.

He shrugged. “Okay.” He said.

Sherlock looked at him suspiciously. “Is that a yes?”

John nodded. “Yes, Sherlock.”

 

**Time the Second - 14 February**

“Today is Valentine’s Day, John.” Sherlock announced as John ate his breakfast.

John froze. Sherlock had not mentioned the Plan since the initial conversation, and John had irrationally hoped that Sherlock had forgotten about it. He ignored the butterflies in his stomach, simply replying, “Yes, it is.”

“We should make a show of having a date tonight for Anderson’s benefit. It fits within the social convention of behaviour, which will make the subterfuge more believable.”

John processed this for a minute. Sherlock was right, but his anticipation at the idea of a date with Sherlock was making him question the whole Plan. He stalled, rephrasing Sherlock’s statement. “You mean, it makes sense for us to have our first date on Valentine’s Day.”

Sherlock stared for a moment, his gaze particularly intense, then replied, “That’s what I said. Angelo’s at 8?”

John nodded, then frowned. “How will Anderson know we’re,” he paused, a bit incredulous he was even having this conversation, “on a date tonight?”

Sherlock grinned at him, setting the butterflies in motion once again. Oh dear. “Lestrade’s going to accidentally bring him past on the way to a scene.”

John gaped for a moment, then sighed, “Alright.”

Sherlock disappeared downstairs, then his head poked back around the corner.

“Wear a suit, John. You’ll be trying to impress me.”  

John rolled his eyes, his sarcastic tone chasing Sherlock down the stairs.

“Yes, Sherlock.”

 

**Time the Third – 21 February**

John was making a cup of tea when a pair of long slim arms wound around his middle, causing him to tip the box of tea bags into the sink. He turned to see Sherlock’s head resting on his shoulder, the dark curls tickling his cheek.

“Good morning,” John choked out, startled but not surprised. This probably had something to do with the Plan.

Sherlock kissed John’s neck, then released him, moving to sit at the bench behind him. “Good morning.” Sherlock smiled at him, then stated unnecessarily, “We should practice being affectionate, John.”

 John smiled wryly, his heart still pounding, skin tingling where Sherlock’s lips had met his skin. “Yes, I figured.”

“It will…"

But John cut him off, “I know, I know, it will make our subterfuge more believable.”

Sherlock nodded, pleased. “You have been listening, good.”

“Of course I have. Plus, I’ve actually been in a relationship recently, which is a help.” John regretted the words as soon as he said them.

Sherlock just looked evenly at him, saying quietly, “I may be rusty, John, but I’m not completely ignorant to the concept of affection.” He stood and walked into his bedroom, slamming the door.

John winced. He would have to make an effort, he knew. A delicate balance between letting his true feelings (which were becoming clearer and more insistent every day) show, and playing a part. As he brooded on this, his phone pinged.

 

_Is that a ‘yes’? SH_

 

John smiled, and typed,

 

_Yes, Sherlock._

 

**Time the Fourth – March 22**

The affection between John and Sherlock had grown quite naturally, and John was enjoying the casual touches, hugs, and even warm glances they were exchanging on a regular basis. He had allowed some of his own feelings to colour his performance, and he wondered at Sherlock’s – was he really that good an actor? If so, Sherlock was a natural. His hand reached out to trail along John’s shoulders when he passed, and the hugs he bestowed at random times were warm and seemed sincere. So what would happen on April Fools’ Day? Would they spring their surprise, then go back to the way they had been? John felt sick at the idea.

Just then, the door to Baker Street burst open and Sherlock came in, blazingly triumphant at something. He held a piece of paper in his hand. “It’s Molly’s birthday, John!” He announced excitedly.

John blinked. “Really?”

Sherlock nodded, and as he opened his mouth, John knew there would be some advancement of the Plan. His mouth went dry and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. “We should let Anderson catch us kissing at Molly’s party next week.”

John thought he had been braced for the announcement, but it still took his breath away. He nodded mutely, not trusting his voice.

Sherlock was looking calculatingly at John’s mouth, and with another premonition, he knew what Sherlock was going to suggest. “We should practice now.”

John pushed away from the bench against which he had been leaning, walking over to Sherlock before he had time to think. He didn’t speak, just ran one hand up Sherlock’s neck to tangle in his hair, pulling his head down so his lips met John’s waiting mouth.

Sherlock’s eyes had been wide from the moment John had moved, his body frozen as John touched, then kissed him. John’s mouth moved over his and for a moment, John wondered if he had misunderstood. Then he felt Sherlock’s arms wind around his shoulders, pulling him in. John parted his lips, his tongue trailing over Sherlock’s until they fell open with a soft, “Oh!”. John took his chance, allowing his tongue to dart into Sherlock’s mouth. Their tongues met, wet and searching, and the jolt that tore through John was real and intense. He released Sherlock suddenly, stepping back, eyes wide.

They stood like that for a moment, Sherlock looking confused and delicious, John thought.

“I think we’ll be fine.” John managed, knowing his eyes were wide, his own lips as plump with kisses as Sherlock’s looked.

“You do?” Sherlock murmured, his voice lower and huskier than John could have imagined.

“Yes, Sherlock.”

 

**Time the Fifth**

“Ready, John?” Sherlock was dressed as usual, tight charcoal suit and the purple shirt that John liked the best.

John smoothed his hands self-consciously over his own button down, paired with his best trousers. He had spent an inordinate amount of time deciding what to wear, finally choosing the blue and white checks that he knew was flattering to his broad shoulders, still one of his best features even without his Army workouts on a regular basis. 

“Ready,” John answered, and for a beat they held each other’s gaze. John felt himself flush, so he turned away, knocking on Molly’s door. They had not spoken about the Kiss since it happened, but John knew that Sherlock still expected the Plan to go as usual. He had no idea what the plan actually was, but trusted Sherlock enough that it didn’t really matter. Because he was Sherlock. John’s best friend. Who he was going to snog tonight, probably in a cupboard somewhere, while pretending that he was pretending to want to, even though he flat out just wanted to. When was it his life had gotten so complicated?

“You’re here!” Molly squealed, opening the door. They both smiled large fake smiles at her, exchanging kisses, then moved in sync to the bar. Their second round promptly followed the first, and Sherlock’s hand in John’s seemed completely natural. They circulated together, Sherlock more handsy than usual, John thought, although that was certainly part of the Plan. A little part of him wrenched at that realization.

“Let’s get out of here for a bit.” Sherlock bent down to whisper in John’s ear, one hand playing with the hair at the back of his neck as he did so.

Goosebumps rose immediately, and John shivered at the feel of Sherlock’s breath on his neck. He looked into Sherlock’s eyes and wondered if the detective could be a good enough actor to fake the desire that was blowing out his pupils. 

“Let’s,” John agreed, and they grabbed each other’s hands and made for the powder room downstairs, John following Sherlock. They entered, Sherlock careful not to lock the door.

“Anderson and Lestrade will be along soon,” Sherlock said, back to the closed door, “So we should…”

John nodded, though he didn’t move. This one was on Sherlock, he thought, as the atmosphere between then was like syrup, heavy and sweet with possibilities. There was no way he was imagining this, and John wanted to see if Sherlock would take the first step, as it were.

“If you stand over there they won’t be able to get the door open,” John pointed out. He boosted himself up to sit on the vanity, his knees apart, and beckoned to Sherlock, watching intently.

Sherlock’s eyes were wide, and he swallowed hard. Hesitantly he walked over to John, stepping between his knees, before running his hands up John’s chest to cup his face. They were holding each other’s gaze like a challenge, until Sherlock’s lips touched John’s. The noise from John’s throat was completely involuntary, and he as sure the shudder that went through Sherlock was equally unplanned. Mouths opened, and the exploration with tongues was nothing short of wondrous. John’s hand’s ran down Sherlock’s back, towards his arse, where he planned to grab two handfuls and bring him in closer, to feel John’s arousal press against his abdomen…

“Bloody hell!”

The voice from behind Sherlock took them both by surprise, and they jumped, Sherlock turning within John’s arms to look at the door, where Lestrade, Anderson, Donovan and Molly stood open mouthed. Lestrade had a grin on his face, while Donovan and Anderson looked slightly repulsed and horrified respectively. John caught Molly’s eye and shrugged a little, seeing her pack away the burst of hurt before she gave him an, ‘it’s okay, go for it’ kind of a look.

“Don’t break that vanity, John,” Molly said, then herded the others out, closing the door behind them.

“Do…do you think they were sufficiently convinced, John?” Sherlock asked shakily, not looking at John but stepping back and straightening his suit.

John gaped for a moment, packing away his own hurt, and managed to croak, “Yes, Sherlock.”

 

**And the One – April 1 st, 12.01am**

Sitting on the vanity in the powder room, John looked at Sherlock. No, not looked, observed. He looked distressed; hand running through hair, pacing in the small space, avoiding eye contact. Distressed was the wrong word; embarrassed was better, John thought.

And with a moment of blinding clarity, John knew. He smiled, relieved. “Sherlock,” he said quietly.

Sherlock didn’t stop.

“Sherlock,” he said again, standing up off the vanity.

Sherlock stopped and looked at him, frozen like a rabbit in the headlights.

John smiled again and Sherlock managed to look even more alarmed.

“I have some questions.” John said carefully. 

“John, I really think we should…” Sherlock stopped as John held up one hand.

“One word answers, Sherlock.”

Sherlock looked almost panicky, then he swallowed and nodded.

John thought for a moment before speaking. “Does Lestrade really have a bet with Donovan?”

“Yes.”

“Did you enjoy being affectionate with me?”

“Yes.”

“Did you enjoy kissing me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to keep being affectionate and kissing me?”

“Yes.”

 “Do you want to tell Anderson it was a joke?” A long, long pause, and then…

“No.”

 “Good.”

Sherlock’s eyes went wide. He pointed a trembling finger at John, who was smiling at him, and Sherlock asked, “Do you want to tell Anderson it was a joke?

John moved closer and wrapped his arms around Sherlock. “No, Sherlock.”


End file.
